Al Capone and Duncan Malone 2
by katie4cheer
Summary: In the 1920's, Duncan, the gangster king of the Log Cabin gang, gets kidnapped by a rival gang. Courtney, his fiancee, has to take on the role of gangster queen to rule the gang and save him. Will she be able to do it, or will Duncan never be rescued?
1. I Know You

**(Author's Note: Warning, the following story contains sex, drugs, gambling, murder, rape, and mild to extreme language. Read at your own risk. Oh, and by the way, if you haven't read the first Al Capone and Duncan Malone story, read it on my profile before reading Al Capone and Duncan Malone 2.)**

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Courtney was in the kitchen, wearing a short black skirt and tight white cotton shirt. She had the sleeves rolled up, just below her elbows. And, of course, the Log Cabin signature black tie dangled loosely from her neck. She lifted a medium-sized wine glass to her lips, and the tart liquid immediately filled her mouth. With no other breakfast foods in the apartment, Courtney had been starting each day with a glowing glass of wine.

"Hey, princess. You're up early," Duncan comments, walking into the kitchen. He slides his arm around her waist and gently kisses her temple before going over to the fridge and rustling through it. Courtney turns around to face him and she leans against the counter, absentmindedly tapping her glittering engagement ring against the wine glass.

"It's my first day working at the Day N' Night bar. I just wanted to be early so I can, you know, be on time and stuff," she replies casually, rolling her eyes. The Day N' Night bar was the bar where Damien had arranged for Courtney and Duncan to finally meet again, after a disagreement where Duncan had wanted to break up with Courtney, but only for her safety from gangster life. But that plan backfired when Courtney ran away after he practically ran away from her, just because he still didn't want her to be put in danger because of him. But all that was fixed now, because Courtney promised that there would be no way of keeping her out of danger even if he left her. And besides, she loved him and he loved her. They both knew it.

Duncan shuts the refrigerator door with a bottle of vodka in his hand and a tiny shot glass in the other. He sits down in a bar stool across the counter from his fiancée and pours himself a shot. "Ah. You're still the overachieving perfectionist that you were when I first met you," he teases, tilting his head back to send the vodka burning down his throat.

"You love it," Courtney points out with a smirk. She downs the rest of her wine and puts the glass on the edge of the counter, walking around the bar counter to where Duncan was sitting. "Well, I got to go. I don't want to be late. Maybe I could see you sometime after work?" she asks suggestively.

"Anything you want, sweetheart," he replies with a wink. Courtney leans in and kisses him, softly biting his bottom lip as she pulls away. He pours more vodka into his shot glass and Courtney grabs her small purse from the sagging couch.

"Hey, Damien," she greets her friend, as he opens his bedroom door and sleepily stumbles into the hallway. His dirty-blonde hair was sticking up at awkward angles, and he was scratching at the crotch of his boxers. He just nods at her and continues on down the hallway. He was never a morning person.

Courtney smirks to herself and walks down the winding staircase. The click-clacking of her high heels echoes throughout the staircase, and a stupid moth thrust itself repeatedly against the bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. She opens the heavy oak front door and slams it shut behind her. She walks down the concrete steps and onto the sidewalk leading behind the Log Cabin apartment.

And there it was.

Her Ford Model A car, that Duncan had bought her a few weeks ago. It had a shiny red body and bright gold rims. The plump tires were a deep chocolate color, and the roof of the car was shiny black. The front grills of the car was a bright reflective silver, and it practically hurt her eyes to just look at it.

Courtney slid into the driver's seat and twisted the car keys in the ignition, making the car roar to life. Her insides turned to Jello. She loved having her own car, especially now that she knew how to run red lights, go hill-topping, and spin around sharp corners without worrying about crashing. As she pulls out into the street, she smiles just thinking about how Duncan had taught her how to drive like a true gangster.

"Just drive. Don't worry about red lights or stop signs or construction sites or anything. Just hit the gas, watch for cars, and drive," he had told her. Courtney had slammed on the gas, and the wind whipped her hair back because of the roofless car. "Damn, you're gorgeous." Duncan had reached over and run a hand through her hair, making her laugh.

When Courtney blinked out of her flashback, she found that she was already parked against the curb one block from Day N' Night. She grabs her purse, locks the door, and walks down the sidewalk. She had basically all the names of the streets and alleys of downtown Chicago memorized. If somebody blindfolded her and asked her to draw a map of it all, she could do it in less than three minutes.

"Heya, Brock," Courtney greets the buff bodyguard who she'd first met when Damien planned on her meeting Duncan here a whole year ago.

"What's up, Courtney? First day on the job?" he replies. Brock had the deepest voice anybody could ever have; it reverberated through your chest and felt like heartburn. But he was the nicest guy Courtney had ever met, despite his threatening appearance. His biceps were practically the same circumference as her waist.

"Sort of. I have training today and then my actual first day starts tomorrow night." Brock holds the door open for her and Courtney stepped into the familiar nightclub. It looked strange in the morning, with the lights on and not one person on the dancefloor. However, there were two other girls in the bar, who would probably be the bartenders who would give her the necessary training for the job.

"Hi, you must be Courtney Malone," the busty redhead said as she approached the bar. The redhead reached a freckled arm across the counter and Courtney shook her head with a nod.

"Yes, I am. And you are…?" Even though she was technically a gangster now, Courtney still had manners.

"I'm Bethany. And this is my friend-slash-coworker, Susan," Bethany introduces, motioning to the blonde who was buffing the shot glasses with a white cloth. Susan gave Courtney a single nod before returning to the glasses.

"Here. Put this on first, then meet me in the supply room for more instructions," Bethany commands, tossing Courtney a white apron and disappearing through the wooden door of the supply room. Courtney ties the apron around her waist and follows after Bethany.

Her mentor was sitting on a wooden crate in the middle of a large warehouse room with concrete floors. There were dozens of shelves holding more crates, barrels, and jugs of different kinds of liquor. Bethany had a glass bottle of hard vodka in her hand, and she takes a sip. "Pop a squat," she says, patting the crate in front of her.

Courtney sits on the crate and accepts the vodka when Bethany holds it out to her. She takes a sip, grimaces, and hands it back, "Dang, that stuff is strong."

"I know, right?" Bethany agrees, taking another swig and holding the bottle in the air. She swirls the liquid around in the bottle and peers at it through the light coming from the lightbulbs high on the ceiling. "We only trade top-quality shit here. It's the best of the best. Which is why we're hiring you. You're linked to Log Cabin, right?"

"Definitely. I'm Duncan's fiancée." Courtney grins to herself, knowing that Duncan's first name alone can strike both fear and respect in the hearts of Chicago's underground.

"Good. Good. So I trust we'll be able to increase our shipment from Log Cabin, then?" Bethany asks. She offers the vodka bottle to Courtney, who swiftly denies it. Straight vodka wasn't her favorite, and she had no idea how Bethany could keep drinking it like that.

"Most likely. I'll talk to Duncan and see about it. But as for training…?" Courtney asks, getting to the point of why she was supposed to be there.

"Oh! Yes! I'll be teaching you how to take inventory. Now, we have ten major different kinds of liquor here. They are tequila, rum, vodka, whiskey, bourbon, moonshine, brandy, gin, scotch, and wine. Moonshine is the rarest, though, since we have to get it all the way from the Midwest instead of Canada. They all come in separately labeled crates, meaning one crate per type of liquor. I'm not so good at explaining things, so… here," Bethany says, lifting a centimeter-thick packet from the floor and handing it to Courtney. "Now that there has everything you'll ever need to know about taking inventory."

There is a lapse in the conversation, in which Bethany looks expectantly at Courtney. "Now, get back to the bar, will ya!" Bethany exclaims, waving one hand in the air and nearly knocking herself off balance, which probably had to do with the amount of straight vodka she's already consumed. "Susan will show you the basics of handling the bar."

"O…kay. Thank you," Courtney replies graciously, standing up from the crate. With the packet in hand, she walks tentatively over to the counter, though the loud steps of her high heels kindof blew her cover. Susan was on to buffing champagne flutes now, instead of shot glasses.

"So, Courtney, I'd assume you aren't that new to pouring liquor and cleaning glasses and all, what with you being one of the head leaders or whatever of Log Cabin, am I right?" Susan asks, not once looking up from the champagne flute.

"You'd be correct," Courtney replies. She leans against the counter and watches her mentor.

"Good. Now, I actually have a better memory than that alcoholic," Susan begins, nodding towards the supply room, where Bethany was probably finishing off the bottle of vodka, "So I won't just give you a packet like that and make you read it in just one day. Take a seat and let me tell you how to entertain the customers while still serving them their drinks…"

Forty-five minutes later, Courtney knew practically everything about working at the bar. From carrying drinks through the dancefloor, sliding shot glasses down the bar counter without spilling, pouring the perfect amount of their really strong moonshine where too much could kill a man, and everything else in between. "Thank you both!" Courtney tells Susan and Bethany, who had come out of the supply room ten minutes prior to the end of her training.

"See you tomorrow night, Courtney," Brock says in his extremely deep voice while holding the door open for her.

"Bye, Brock," she replies. As soon as Courtney steps out the door, however, she nearly collides right into Duncan's chest. He wraps his arms around her waist, trapping her against him. Courtney cranes her head up to make eye contact, since even in her highest heels, she only came up to about his chin.

"What's the rush, Princess?" Duncan asks in his smooth-as-velvet voice of his.

"No rush, just walking out the door," she answers in a teasing tone. "The real question is, though, what are you doing here?"

"Can't a guy meet his fiancée at work?" Duncan asks innocently. The sparkle in his sea-green eyes said otherwise.

"Sure, if that would be normal for a drug lord like you," Courtney responds. She manages to wiggle out of Duncan's grasp and they start walking for the car at the end of the alley. Duncan sits in the driver's seat and Courtney obediently sits in the passenger's seat. "Now what's really going on?"

Instead of answering, Duncan hands her a red envelope from his jacket pocket. He starts the car, does a U-turn, and starts heading towards the even poorer part of town. Courtney knew what a red envelope meant; of course she did. It meant somebody wasn't paying their share of the drugs or liquor they got from Log Cabin, and now it was time for their "reimbursements."

Usually red letters didn't end on the most pleasant of terms. The very first red-letter incident Courtney had seen was of a guy who was a drug dealer, yet such a junkie that he had no money left to pay the drugs he had intended to trade but ended up using himself. Duncan and a few other men tied him up in a chair in an alleyway. They doused the man in gasoline and lit him on fire. The only thing Duncan had to tell her afterwards was, "He should have paid up."

Duncan parks her car in front of a run-down tenement buildings, occupied by African Americans. Wordlessly, they climb out of the car. Courtney goes to the front door of the apartment building while Duncan gets a sledge hammer from the trunk of the car. Though she'd been on countless red-letter encounters, she still got shaken up a bit. She tried to calm herself down by telling herself it would probably be an eventless encounter, since it was only her and Duncan. And he'd never put her in danger. Ever.

They walk into the foyer of the tenement building. Little kids suddenly stopped running around and stared at the newcomers. Duncan led the way up the stairs. The stairwell was dark and narrow and smelled of mold. He walks into a hallway and tells Courtney the room number, "Three-twelve."

Courtney nods and slips around him to go first down the hallway. She was familiar with the routine. She would knock on the door and explain the situation, hopefully even giving them the red letter if they were calm enough about it, since she was less intimidating than any other man from Log Cabin. If they put up a fight, Duncan would step in and intimidate them to hand over the money. And if they still resisted… well, there was only one thing to do then.

Up and down the hallway, women who had been doing the wash suddenly disappear behind the rooms to their door. Children were called inside, and the hallway was slowly deserted. Everybody knew Duncan, and almost everyone knew Courtney by now, too. They knew what was going to happen.

Finally, room 312 comes up on their right. Courtney knocks on the door five times, each of them hard raps that echoed down the hall. Everybody knew three knocks was the police; five knocks was a red letter. Usually. But apparently this guy was oblivious, or was just too high to remember. The door opened as far as the gold chain-lock would let it.

The man's eyes widened in fear when he saw who it was, and as Courtney noticed he was about to shut the door, she quickly tosses the red letter into his apartment before it slams shut. Duncan brushes Courtney aside and raises the sledgehammer high. One hard slam on the doorknob snaps it right off, and the door swings open a few inches before the chain catches it.

Duncan kicks the door in, snapping off the cheap chain-lock. Courtney reaches for the gun she always kept strapped high on her thigh. She reaches under her skirt and takes it out before following Duncan inside. They walk cautiously through the dingy living quarters. There was one sagging sofa, a stained mini-fridge, and a coffee table. On the coffee table, there was a razorblade and a few un-sniffed lines of coke lined up on a mirror.

A door slams in the corner of the apartment, and Duncan heads for it. Courtney stays right behind him. He knocks the doorknob right off, again, and the door swings open. The man on the other side lunges to hold the door shut, and Duncan jumps to keep the door open. The man slams the door shut, but not all the way, since half of Duncan's body and both arms were already through the opening.

Duncan grunts as he's pinned between the woodwork. He raises his arms to choke the guy, but the man manages to bite down hard enough on one of Duncan's hands to draw blood. Courtney tries to shove the door open, too, and with their combine weight, manage to open the door. The guy falls to the floor and scrambles for the screen door that led from the bathroom to the porch, though the porch was a dead end.

Duncan steps out on the porch, too, and pulls his gun from his belt loop and holds it to the guy's forehead. "D-Don't shoot," the man pleads with him.

"Give me one good reason," Duncan sneers, "Besides the fact if you just give me the money, I just might let you go without a scratch." When he gets into it, Duncan can get as cold as it comes. The only thing, or _person_, that really seems to let out the nicer side of him is Courtney, who was watching what was going on from the door of the bathroom.

"Okay, listen… I don't have the money at the moment, but there are too many witnesses if you kill me. You wouldn't dare," the man challenges. Courtney bites her lip; that was the wrong thing for him to say in his position.

"You don't know what I'm capable of," Duncan replies, stone-faced, referring to the fact that Duncan Malone is never caught by the police. He's untouchable. Duncan pulls the trigger, blasting a bullet right into the guy's forehead. A crunch sound is heard as the bullet shoots through his skull, killing him instantly. The man crumples to the ground, and blood starts to flow from the gunshot wound.

**"You got no business? Fuck you, pay me.**  
**You got fired? Fuck you, pay me.**  
**The place got hit by lightning? Fuck you, pay me."**  
_- Henry Hill_

Duncan crouches down and roots through the dead man's pockets, withdrawing a wad of cash he'd probably been saving up to score more cocaine from someone he wasn't already in debt with. His fingers flip through the bills, and he tosses one-fourth of the bills onto the man's unmoving chest. "Twenty-five percent," Duncan murmurs, pocketing the rest of the money.

As a dealer, you immediately get seventy-five percent of the buyer's profits. The buyer in turn only keeps twenty-five percent. This ominous action of equality snaps Courtney out of her reverie and she gently pulls on Duncan's arm. "C'mon, we have to go now," she says softly.

Duncan stands up and they leave the apartment as if nothing happened. The hallway was still deserted; the tenants knew that if they got involved, there would be little chance of coming out of it unharmed. Courtney replaces her gun around the strap on her thigh and puts an arm around Duncan's waist. He puts one arm gently around her shoulders and carries the gun and sledgehammer in his other hand.

In the middle of the empty stairwell, Courtney decides to voice her opinions. "It doesn't bother you?" she asks, "Killing people?"

Not that she hasn't ever killed anybody, because she has. Several, in fact. But only for good reasons. And she's felt guilty about it, for about a whole week after killing them. But Duncan seems unfazed by it all.

He doesn't answer until they were out of the apartment building. He tosses the sledgehammer in the trunk, climbs into the front seat, and faces Courtney in the passenger seat. "I wouldn't be very good at my job if it did," Duncan finally replies. Courtney nods and they start driving back to Log Cabin.

After a few minutes of silence, Courtney blurts, "I bet it bothers you at least a little bit." She faces Duncan to guess his reaction, which was just a faint flicker of a smirk.

"Oh, yeah?" he counters. "And why do you say that?"

"I know you," Courtney answers simply as they park the car in front of the warehouse. "And you aren't as cold-hearted as everybody thinks you are. At least, you aren't that way _most_ of the time."

Duncan still doesn't say anything. He just turns off the engine and looks at Courtney with an amused look on his face; his eyes were twinkling with curiosity, he was smirking, and one pierced eyebrow was raised. So Courtney continues, "Sometimes I even think I know you better than yourself."

Suddenly a thought strikes her: _Was Duncan getting closer, or was it just her imagination playing tricks on her?_

"Oh, really?" Duncan murmurs. Courtney can feel his breath on her cheek and she knows for sure he was definitely moving closer. Unable to form any words, all she does is nod. Everything about Duncan made her body feel like it was on overdrive. They've kissed an uncountable amount of times, yet she was always left breathless. They've had sex practically every other day, and in every place imaginable -- on the bed, in the shower, on the floor, in a random alleyway, on a desk, in the car, etc, etc -- yet she was always amazed and excited every time. How Duncan still had this effect on Courtney after being with him for over a year, she didn't know.

With their lips only being maybe an inch apart, Courtney's eyes flutter closed. Duncan's warm lips press down on hers barely a second after she closes her eyes. As his hands roam her body and his tongue glides over hers, Courtney is surprised with the amount of urgency he has. Duncan pulls her onto his lap so she was now straddling him in the driver's seat.

Duncan's hands wander down to her butt, and his tongue goes deeper into her mouth to deepen the kiss. Courtney cradles his head in her hands, and pulls away. "Slower," she whispers, her eyes still closed. She leans in and takes her time exploring the familiar insides of his mouth. Courtney slowly pulls away, gently biting his lip as she pauses for a breath. Then she leans in again and makes a game of avoiding his tongue and teasing him with little flicks of her tongue.

A groan comes from the far back of his throat and Courtney smiles, but keeps kissing him. She knew Duncan hated it when he teased him like that, but she also knew that it made him really horny at the same time. Again, Courtney often knew him better than he knew himself.

This time, Duncan pulls away and makes eye contact with her with a sizzling gaze full of lust. "I want you. Now," he commands, his voice low and husky. Courtney nearly melts at the sounds of his voice, but keeps herself under control. With them, love was a contest to see who could push the other the farthest.

"No. Not yet," Courtney concides, leaning in for another kiss, but Duncan ducks and avoids it. He shoves the car door open and pulls her out. He tosses her over his shoulder like a sac of potatoes, and once again Courtney is amazed by his strength. But at the same time, she nearly laughs out loud at how predictable he was. She had him wrapped around her little finger.

"No, now," Duncan growls. He carries her into the apartment and up the stairs, ignoring the wolf whistles of the Log Cabin guys. They knew that whenever Duncan carried Courtney into their room over his shoulder, they were going to have sex, or she was in trouble, they were going to argue, _then _they were going to have sex. Either way, it was the same result.

In Duncan's bedroom, which actually belonged to both of them now, he sets Courtney on the ground and backs her into a corner. His hands immediately run all along her body, giving her chills. Duncan kisses her again and simultaneously starts unbuttoning her shirt, causing a strange thought to enter her mind: the image of the dead drug dealer on the porch.

Courtney suddenly pulls away from him and lets out a giddy laugh, though she just had that very disturbing thought. It was just the effect he had on her. "You know what, Duncan?" she asks.

"What?" he replies, his breath ragged and his hands steadily pulling clothes off her at a faster and faster rate.

"Just a half hour ago you killed a man. Now I'm practically half-naked, and you're hand is bleeding from where he bit you," Courtney points out, looking down at the red crescent moon of dried blood on Duncan's hand, which was on her hips.

"Why so surprised? I thought you were used to this kind of stuff by now… Or aren't you ready to live life in the bad lane, Princess?" Duncan teases with his trademark smirk.

"Oh, I've been ready for a _long_ time," Courtney replies, earning a chuckle from Duncan. "But I have to say, if you're going to fuck me, you need to at least get a bandage on your hand."

Duncan backs away and starts rifling through a drawer of the dresser in the corner of the room. He slowly shakes his head with an amused grin on his face while he finds gauze and starts wrapping up his wound like an expert. "There, Princess," he exclaims, holding out his bandaged palm. "Are we good to go now?"

"More than good," Courtney whisper-replies, threading her arms around Duncan's neck. With another smirk, he picks her up and tosses her on top of their bed.

And thus was the life of a gangster.

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(Author's Note: I must say, though I've been neglecting my other stories, I am ecstatic to begin writing Al Capone and Duncan Malone 2 due to all my loyal fans who have been absolutely

_**begging **_**for it. And just for your information, there won't be a sex-ish scene in every chapter, for those of you who feel uncomfortable about those. But I did warn you! Haha. Review, tell me what you think so far, and give me some ideas!)**


	2. Blue Magic

A loud knocking on their bedroom door wakes both of them up the next morning. Duncan squeezes his arm that was around Courtney's shoulders and brushes a kiss on her forehead. "Morning, sunshine," he murmurs. Then he turns to face the door and shouts, "WHOEVER FUCKING WOKE ME UP AT THIS GOD-FORBID HOUR NEEDS TO GO AWAY _NOW_, OR PREPARE TO GET YOUR ASS WHOOPED!"

Courtney groans and burrows her head into Duncan's shoulder. She was not in the mood for yelling however early it was in the morning, since she'd hardly gotten any sleep the night before. Yet more knocking pursues. "Sorry, baby girl," Duncan excuses and climbs out of bed. The absence of his warmth makes Courtney burrows deeper under the covers.

Duncan pulls on a pair of red plaid boxers as he crosses the room. Once he was covered, he swings open the door to reveal Damien, who was standing there with a pissed look on his face. "Duncan, it's nearly two in the afternoon," Damien scolds.

There was a short pause before Duncan asked, "Your point?"

Damien clenched his jaw, and reminds his friend, "The Morino brothers are in the meeting room right now. I gave 'em some coke to keep them busy about fifteen minutes ago, since I thought you were _waking up_. But apparently not. Duncan, man, this deal means a shit-load to Log Cabin! And you're fucking it up!"

"Calm it down, Damien. Tell them I'll be down in a few. And no more cocaine. We're trying to sell it to them, not get them extremely high off it," Duncan answers breezily. With a quick nod, he slams the door in Damien's face to start getting dressed.

Duncan quickly slips his black dress slacks on and buttons on a white cotton shirt, which he rolls up to the elbows. After he slides a tie around his neck and loosely ties it, Courtney gives him a lazy smile, thinking he was leaving. But instead of heading out the door, Duncan kneels over Courtney and gives her one more kiss. His hand glides under the covers and over her bare chest.

"You doing anything tonight?" Duncan asks with a playful smirk.

"Working," Courtney replies, "But you're welcome to meet me there." She grabs Duncan's tie and pulls him in for a light kiss before releasing him. Duncan stands up and walks to the door.

"Will do," he says with a small salute in her direction. Once the door was firmly closed behind him, Courtney creeps out of bed and quickly puts on her lingerie, which was laying in a pile on the floor. Then she kneels down and brushes a blue area rug to the side, revealing a trapdoor half-hidden in the floorboards.

Courtney tugs up on the cold metal hook for a handle and the trapdoor swings open. As she descends into the secret passageway, she snaps on the lights and grins to herself. _The location of her very first night spent in Log Cabin_. By now, it had been transformed from a dark and dank cellar into a closet. It was also still used as a hideout every now and then.

Racks of her clothes lined the walls, and dresses of all colors dangled from assorted hangers. Below the dresses were shelves and shelves of shoes, from the thinnest-soled flats to the highest stilettos money can buy. A massive dresser took up the whole wall at the other end of the room, where tees and pants and lingerie was kept. All her accessories dangled from hooks in the ceiling, only accessible by stool, yet the gold and silver sparkled in the light from the lightbulbs. Duncan had even brought in a thick rug to cover the cold dirt floor.

Lets be honest here: Duncan clearly loved to spoil Courtney.

Courtney selects a black strapless, form-fitting minidress from a hanger and slips it on. She faintly remembered glancing at a page of the packet that Bethany gave her, which said they could wear whatever they wanted to at Day N' Night, as long as it was black. Courtney stands on a stool and reaches to get a chunky gold necklace off a hook, and slips it over her neck. Then she takes a few tarnished gold bracelets and slides them on, too. Her outfit is complete by a pair of black staggeringly-high stiletto heels that she has, by now, mastered walking in. But Courtney doesn't put them on just yet; no need getting blisters this early in the day.

She leaves the secret passageway and slides the rug over the trapdoor. Courtney takes a seat on the bed and grabs the Day N' Night packet off the nightstand. Flipping it open to the very first page, she starts to read over it. In just five hours, she'll be off to her first night shift at the Day N' Night bar. So she had to read the whole packet by then, or risk getting fired.

But however hard she tried to focus, Courtney just couldn't concentrate. Her mind was wandering to other places, namely, the Morino brothers, whom Duncan was sweet-talking right now. The Morino brothers are the leaders of a small, fairly unimportant gang that is no risk to Log Cabin. However, they have amazing business skills. The Morino gang deals mainly drugs and other illegal substances; liquor… not so much.

The good news is that Log Cabin has a connection with a very powerful drug lord in the Columbian rainforest, who grows the coca leaves on a plantation, turns it into powder form, then wraps it into bricks for transportation. Since Log Cabin gets their cocaine straight from the source instead of through several dealers, they're able to buy it cheaper than normally and sell it to other dealers, thus making a profit.

The cocaine that Log Cabin distributes is called Blue Magic, and is at least twice as strong as their competitors' drugs. The only problem with Blue Magic is that since it's so much stronger than the drugs Log Cabin's customers were usually used to, during the first week Blue Magic was introduced to the junkies, they overdosed and over half of them died. By now, all the addicts are used to the high-quality Blue Magic and have their consumption levels under control.

Courtney groans and bumps her head on the wall. _I have to concentrate! But…I NEED to know what's going on with the Morino brothers! _All Duncan told her about the meeting today is that the brothers were thinking of paying him a large sum of money for them to be one of the main distributers of Blue Magic. But Duncan didn't want to jinx his luck, so that was all he told her…

Courtney abandons the packet on the bed and puts on her strappy black high heels. She sneaks out of her bedroom, into the hallway. She walks down to the door with the Blue Magic symbol on it: five blue stars of varying sizes, positioned in a swirl formation. Courtney knocks twice on the door and lets herself in.

In the drug packaging and distribution room, there were at least seven Log Cabin members standing at wooden tables with the bricks of cocaine stacked high into the air. Each table had a different job, whether it was counting the bricks, measuring the amount of powder in each brick, separating the cocaine into sizeable amounts to sell, or packaging the cocaine into the bright blue packets with the Blue Magic symbol on them.

_"I am like any other man. _  
_All I do is supply a demand."_  
**- Al Capone**

"Hey, Courtney," the Log Cabin guys chorus. Courtney smirks as Duncan's reminder rings loud and clear in her head: _'Though they've been in the business loner, you're my fiancée. Don't you ever let those guys forget that you rule them, not the other way around.'_

Courtney walks confidently into the room with her head held high, like any gangster queen should. "Hey, boys," she replies breezily. She navigates through the room to the table in the corner, where Damien was working on processing the powder. "Damien, what's up?" Courtney asks, sliding into the stool next to him.

"Just waiting for the verdict about the Morino brothers," Damien replies with a sigh. Courtney nods and reaches for a brick of cocaine; she knew how to do every job in Log Cabin now, after Duncan gave her a multitude of tutorial courses.

"Me too… I tried studying for my job at Day N' Night, but I couldn't focus," Courtney admits. She unwraps the plastic from around the brick and dumps out the off-white powder onto the table. "What do you think is going to happen?"

"Duncan will get the deal. Definitely. He always does. The question is, though, is how far he'll push the envelope to get the highest profit possible without pissing off the Morino brothers," Damien says off-handedly. Courtney nods in agreement and just focuses on the task at hand; packaging the Blue Magic. For some reason, it always seemed to clear her mind.

Courtney picks up the razor blade off the table and dices up the small chunks into powder form. Once all the cocaine was completely powdery, she takes a small scoop and deposits enough coke onto the scale until it reads 3.5 grams. Courtney takes the razor blade and slides the coke into a thin blue plastic bag. She ties a tight little knot to seal the bag shut, forming the perfect little 8-ball. Courtney puts on the finishing touch by stamping the logo of Blue Magic onto it.

Sometime after the third or fourth 8-ball Courtney has made, a Log Cabin guy turns on the radio and turns it to one of the only five radio stations in Chicago at the time. The song Build Me Up, Buttercup begins playing. Courtney sets several scoops of coke onto the scale, and starts adjusting the amount so it finally reaches 3.5 grams. "_Why do ya fill me up, fill me up, Buttercup, baby, just to let me down, let me down, and mess me around?_" she starts singing under her breath.

Damien smiles next to her and starts singing along, "_And then worst of all, worst of all, you never call, baby, when you say you will, say you will._"

The guys at the table in front of them hear Damien and Courtney singing along, so they join in too, "_But I love you still!_ _I need you, I need you, more than annnyone, darling, you know that I have from the start!_"

By the time the chorus rolls around the next time, everybody is singing along to the static-filled radio. "_Why do you fill me up, fill me up, Buttercup, baby, just to let me down, let me down, and mess me around?_" they all sing at the top of their lungs, "_And then worst of all, worst of all, you never call, baby, when you say you will, say you will, but I love you still! I need you, I need you, more than annnyone, darling, you know that I have from the start! So build me up, build me up, Buttercup, don't break my heart!_"

"What the hell are you guys doing?" asks Duncan, who was standing by the door and smirking. He must have walked in on them halfway through the chorus, since nobody had noticed him until the song ended.

Somebody leans over to flick off the radio, and an awkward silence fell over them. "Just singing, boss." Duncan slowly nods and looks over them, finally making eye contact with Courtney in the back. She quickly finishes up the last 8-ball she was working on, and navigates through the tables to Duncan's side. Duncan puts his arm around her and gently squeezes her shoulder.

"Gang meeting in three minutes in the living room," Duncan announces, and one by one, all the gangsters file out of the room to the living room. Once the room was empty, he turns and brings Courtney out of the room with him, into the hallway.

"So how did it go with the Morino brothers?" Courtney asks, tilting her head up to look at Duncan.

"We didn't get the deal," he answers bluntly.

"What? Why?!" Courtney gasps.

"I told them no," Duncan says simply. Courtney looked appalled, and her lips parted to start ranting about his stupidity, his lack of common sense, his idiocy, etc, etc. He's heard it all before. So Duncan just holds his finger up to her lips and murmurs, "I'll explain during the meeting. Just hold on."

They walk into the living room, where all of the gangsters have already found their places; whether on the couches, on the floor, or just standing against the wall. Duncan took a seat on the sagging green couch against the wall and Courtney sits down in the blue chair next to Damien.

"So tell us the good news, Duncan," Damien exclaims, slapping his hands together and rubbing them. Courtney's stomach twists. It wasn't all that uncommon that if a gang leader did something their gang didn't agree with, the gangsters would kick him out. Not that the Log Cabin gangsters would do something like that… They were loyal to Duncan. _Right?_

"I have good news and bad news," Duncan announces, "The bad news is that I kicked the Morino brothers out of here." Groans of unsatisfaction and disagreement ring out around the room. Courtney stays quiet and watches Duncan's expression. "The good news is that I didn't sell out for a cheap deal."

"How cheap of a deal?" Damien asks.

"He was basically offering us three bucks a gram, which isn't worth shit," Duncan answers blatantly. Courtney nods to herself. One gram of high-quality coke was at least worth ten to twenty dollars. It was important to make decisions based on what you can get out of it, not what they can get out of you. If you accept everybody's deals, you'll never be able to get your gang off the ground.

Duncan stood up and stuffed his hands in his pockets, gazing over the gangsters. "I've decided something… from now on, Log Cabin will be the only gang that distributes Blue Magic to dealers. I think that would, in turn, make Blue Magic a delicacy. The rarest coke around. Then we'd be able to raise our price, be able to get a higher profit than usual. As long as we keep our Columbian dealer a secret, we'll all be living high class. Well, at least as high-class as a gang can get, anyway," Duncan declares.

All around the room, heads bobbed up and down in agreement to what Duncan just said.

"Now, before we're all bored out of our minds, since lets admit it, we all hate these meetings. But I have one more announcement to make. In a half hour, I expect you all to be on your best behavior. And by that, I mean that we're having a visitor," Duncan continues.

"And who's dat?" somebody calls from the back of the room, their Chicago accent coming out strong. Courtney was honestly just as curious, since nobody had talked to her about any visitors.

"My uncle," Duncan counters, "Al Capone."

**

* * *

**

(Author's Note: Okay, I know the song Build Me Up Buttercup was actually released in 1968 and not in the 1920's, but it sounds like an older song. And I'm not all that into all the jazz from the 1920's so… yeah. If I mention any more songs during this story, it'd probably be a safe bet it didn't come out in the 1920's. And I know the price of cocaine is actually about one hundred dollars, but we're talking the 1920's here, and I have no idea what it cost back then. Since the value of a dollar was ten percent less back then, I just divided a hundred bucks by ten, and… yeah. And one more thing: If any of you noticed, yes, I got the name 'Blue Magic' from the movie American Gangster due to the lack of anything better. Haha, review!)


	3. I'd Kill Ya

**(Author's Note: OMFG!!! YOU WON'T BELIEVE THIS!!! This Mother's Day my grandma came over and she saw I was reading the book The Untouchables (more about the book in the A/N at the end). So she started telling me about how her dad, my great-grandpa, was an actual bootlegger during Prohibiton!!! I was ecstatic. Lol. She said he'd have bunches of stills in their garage where they'd make the alcohol, and the rumrunners would come to their garage in the middle of the night to get the alcohol. Apparently my great-grandma knew they were making it for Al Capone, not any of those other gangsters in the Chicago area like Bugsy or whomever. Then my great-grandpa would get an alert from some people he hired around the neighborhood to tell him when the police were coming so he'd have enough time to take everything down and hide the evidence. SO MY GREAT-GRANDPA WAS A BOOTLEGGER FOR AL CAPONE! Haha, I'm so proud. I just had to tell you guys since it fit in with the theme of the story.)**

* * *

A collective gasp engulfs the room. _Al Capone? Inside Log Cabin? _Duncan just looked around and smirked, seeming to be enjoying everybody's shock. "So? What are you all waiting for? Get back to work! I don't want Uncle Al thinking I pay you guys just to sit around," Duncan exclaims with a hint of a teasing glint in his eye, though he was being completely serious.

The room empties in the blink of an eye, with everybody anxious for Al Capone's arrival. Courtney stays behind, however, and walks over to Duncan. He looks her up and down, taking in her cleavage, bare legs, and high heels. Then he looks her in the eyes and asks, "Got a light?"

Courtney looks away and scans the coffee table to the right of them. Pushing over a stack of PlayBoy magazines revealed a red lighter, which Courtney picked up and handed to Duncan. "The way you were looking at me, I'd have figured you were going to ask something else," she comments.

Duncan takes a cigarette from his pocket, lights it, and slips the lighter into his pocket for later use. "Like what?" Duncan asks after a drag. He turns his head to let out a puff of smoke.

"Use your imagination," Courtney retorts, crossing her arms over her chest. Duncan returns to checking her out, running his gaze up and down her body.

"I'm using it."

Courtney turns around and replies, "Let me know when you're finished." She plops down on the couch and promptly crosses her legs, an annoying habit of hers. Duncan smirks at her.

"Now what's really the problem?" Courtney continues, "I know you only ever smoke in the house when you're worried."

Duncan sighs and takes a seat next to Courtney. "You know me too well," he admits sullenly. But this was no surprise to her. Another drag on his cigarette and yet no reply from his fiancée prompts him to continue, "I guess I'm just nervous about seeing Uncle Al. I haven't seen him in a while, and he _definitely_ hasn't seen me since before all this Log Cabin business, and--"

"I'm sure he'll be proud of you, Duncan," Courtney says honestly.

"You sure?" Duncan asks. Looking into his eyes right then, Courtney could see just a little peek of what he was like as a kid. Innocent, naïve, vulnerable…

"Sure, I'm sure," she answers him. The doorbell rings a few floors below them. "But there's only one way to find out." Courtney stands up and looks at Duncan, giving him a look like, _Well, are you coming?_

"Shit," he groans, running a hand through his thick hair. Then he extinguishes his cigarette in the ash tray on the coffee table, stands up, and takes Courtney's hand in his. They walk down the stairs and up to the front door. Duncan opens the front door to reveal Al Capone, in the flesh.

"Duncan!" Al Capone booms, in his loud Italian accent. He steps into the foyer and pulls his nephew in for a hug. After a quick slap on the back, they pull apart. Gangsters weren't much for emotional confrontations.

"Hey, Uncle Al," Duncan replies with a grin. From where Courtney was standing, Al Capone looked to be at least a few inches taller than Duncan, which meant he towered over her.

"And you must be Courtney Pembrooke. Err, pardon me, Courtney _Malone_," Al Capone thunders, holding his hand out, "And Duncan's right: You're gorgeous." Courtney smiles bashfully and accepts the handshake, with his hand completely enveloping hers.

"Thank you. Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Capone," Courtney says back.

"That's Uncle Al to you," Al Capone says with a wink. "You're practically family now." Courtney can't help but smile at this. Al Capone looks around the warehouse, examining it, meanwhile, Courtney was examining _him_. It wasn't often you were in the presence of a notorious gangster whose face kissed the front cover of newspapers everywhere. Despite the exception of Duncan, whom Courtney saw every day.

Al Capone had thick black eyebrows and brown eyes. His face was round and pudgy, and had a receding hairline of black Italian hair. He had big ears, big lips, a big nose; he was an overall big person. Up close, he didn't appear to be the cold-blooded killer he really was. The only slightly terrifying thing about him were the three scars on his left cheek, from a bar fight years ago.

Everybody in Chicago knew the origin of those scars. Al Capone, before he was a gangster, was a bouncer at a night club. Frankie Yale, a mob boss from New York, came in one night with his sister, Lena. Al Capone told Lena, " 'Honey, you got a nice ass, and I mean that as a compliment, believe me.' " Frankie went berserk, however, and slashed Al Capone with his pocket knife. Thus, Al Capone got the nickname Scarface from ruthless newspaper reporters. Though they would never call him that to his face.

Duncan led Al Capone up the stairs, and Courtney followed. The first stop on their tour of the warehouse was the Blue Magic room. After a quick introduction to the processing method, Al Capone slapped Duncan on the back. "You know," said Al, "You're almost giving my gang a run for our money. If you weren't family, I'd kill you."

Duncan laughs and replies with a smirk, "Don't worry, Uncle Al. You have over a thousand gunmen, half the Chicago police department on your payroll, you make 60 million bucks a year, and you have favors from mayors, congressmen, legislators, and state's attorneys. We ain't got nothing on you."

This time it was Al Capone's turn to laugh. "Good answer, boy, good answer," he chuckles. Courtney figures she should get going, since by now, she still has hardly studied her Day N' Night packet, and she figured Duncan and Al Capone could have some bonding time. She slips out of the room unnoticed and back to her bedroom, where she reads the whole packet front to back.

_"I have built my organization upon fear."_  
**- Al Capone**

At seven that evening, Courtney puts the packet away, confident that she's learned everything there was to know. She puts her high heels back on, which she took off a few hours ago for comfort's sake. She takes her car keys from the nightstand, opens the door, and nearly runs into Duncan in the hallway.

"Oops, sorry," Courtney blurts. But the look in Duncan's eyes makes her stop. "Wh-What happened?" she asks nervously.

Duncan takes her car keys out of her hands and replies, "I'll tell you in the car. I'm driving you to work." Then he wordlessly leads her out of the warehouse and into the alley next to the building.

"Where's Al Capone?" Courtney asks. She anxiously climbs into the passenger seat of her car, keeping her eyes on Duncan's face to watch his expression. But his face was kept blank as a slate, despite the odd look in his eyes.

"Bonding with the guys," Duncan answers. He starts the car and murmurs, "If you could call it that." They pull out of the alley and start heading towards Day N' Night.

"Then what's the problem?" Duncan rakes one hand through his hair and lets out a heavy sigh. "It's the Blue Magic. More people are starting to use it, since it's gaining popularity. But the newbies don't know how much to be using, so they're dying off. Again. Except now they're dying at a larger rate and if the police ever find out _we're _the ones distributing the Blue Magic, we could be charged for possession and sale of illegal substances _and _manslaughter," he admits.

"So… what are we going to do?"

"Right after your work, which should be sometime around midnight, I'm going to pick you up and we're going to go to the Lombardi's house. She's a newbie drug addict turned drug dealer. So she's real amateur, in the sense of both doing and dealing. We'll have to explain to her that she has to start teaching her customers how much to use," Duncan explains.

"But we never do that," Courtney comments. The car stops in front of the alley to Day N' Night, but she doesn't make a move to get out of the car.

"I know, but we have to if we're going to stop people from overdosing," Duncan replies with a wry grin. "So… I'll pick you up tonight."

Courtney nods and climbs out of the car. She knew this was going to come eventually, seeing as this has happened before, right when they first introduced Chicago to Blue Magic, but it still surprised her that it was happening now. But it was like a virus. It would happen once, they'd be totally shocked when it did, then even though it went away and they knew it'd come back again, they were still shocked when it did.

Courtney knocks on the thick door into the bar and a slot at eye-level slides open. Brock's big brown eyes peer through at her. "Brock, what're you doing? Let me in," Courtney snaps. She really wasn't in the mood.

"Okay, okay," Brock rumbles. The slot slides closed and the door opens. He steps aside to let her in, and right as he closes the door, continues, "Day N' Night has changed from a bar to a speakeasy. Instead of just letting people in now, we have a password you have to say before we let you in, you know, to cut down on police busts."

"So what's the password?"

"Malone."

Courtney smirks and rolls her eyes. "Should be easy enough to remember," she remarks.

"Courtney! Over here!" Bethany calls out, waving from over at the bar counter. Courtney saunters over and puts her palms flat on the counter.

"We need you to man the bar alone tonight. Susan and I will be busy in the back room tonight, and I'm sure you read enough of the packet in order to know how to keep things under control, right?" Bethany asks.

"Definitely."

_"Nobody knows anybody. _  
_Not that well."_  
**- Tom Reagan**

In an hour or more, the bar was packed. Courtney was shuffling around the bar like a pro, having made herself comfortable where everything was by now. Every seat was filled around the bar, and some people even stood around, waiting for a new seat to open up. Apparently everyone wanted to see how much Duncan's fiancée could handle.

"One over here!" a man calls, and Courtney sees a finger raise in the air through her peripheral vision. She grabs another shot glass and a bottle of brandy. The whole night so far, he's been knocking back shots like nobody's business. Courtney was surprised he was still able to sit upright.

Courtney puts two ice cubes into the shot glass and calls out, "One!" as the brandy begins to flow into the glass. "Two! Three!" By three, Courtney tilts the bottle up to stop pouring and fills the remaining space with some mixer. With a flick of her wrist, the shot goes flying down the smooth wood counter. Customers cheer as it passes them; part of being a bartender was the actual performance.

"Margarita over her!" another man calls. Courtney mentally groans, since margaritas usually took the most amount of time, even if they were a crowd-pleaser. She tosses a pinch of coarse Kosher salt on the counter and wets the rim of the glass. After putting the glass top-down in the salt, there was now a crystalline rim to the glass.

Courtney fills up the glass with ice and tequila. She takes two lime slices from under the counter and squeezes lime juice into the mix. Courtney attaches the second lime slice to the rim for appearances' sake. She carries the margarita to the customer, lifts it into the air with a small smirk like a toast, and sets it in front of him.

Suddenly, there was a hand on her shoulder. Courtney turns around to see Susan with dime-sized pupils. "Bethany wants to see you," Susan says obnoxiously loud like Courtney couldn't hear. "I'll take over from here."

"Uh… sure," Courtney replies, and slips out of Susan's grip. She leaves the bar and heads to the far corner of the speakeasy. Bethany had said she would be in the back room for the night, but Courtney had never been in a room in Day N' Night besides the stockroom.

She opens the first door she comes to, revealing a dark room with no windows and only a single lightbulb. A blue-ish haze of cigar smoke hovered close over a long polished table where a handful of men were playing poker. Stacks of hundred-dollar bills were piled on the table, and all their gazes turned to face the open door. "Pardon me," Courtney excuses, backing out of the room.

The next room she gets to, Courtney opens the door a bit more anxiously. Luckily, Bethany was in the corner sitting on a crate. Even from the door, Courtney could see that her pupils were the size of dimes. Courtney navigates her way through the room by going around about ten people who were all taking their share of a Blue Magic eight-ball and snorting it.

"Susan said you wanted to see me," Courtney says to Bethany, whose world was currently being magnified by the cocaine.

"Ah, yes. I want you to…," Bethany leaves off, staring into the distance. Her eyes flick back and forth, and her whole body vibrates. On coke, your body just feels on complete overdrive. There were simply too many thoughts flying through her head to form a single sentence.

Suddenly, Duncan bursts into the room and cocks his head at Courtney, signaling for her to leave with him. "C'mon, Princess," he orders. Then he turns to Bethany and says, "Hope you don't mind I steal your employee a little early tonight. But I left some Blue Magic and liquor in the stock room for reparations."

Bethany's eyes light up at the sound of more Blue Magic. "Shush, no! Take Courtney! Do whatever you want!" she exclaims, then shoulders her way into the circle of druggies for another snort.

Courtney retreats across the room to Duncan and he puts his arm around her. "Night, Brock," Duncan says to the burly guard who lets them out into the alleyway with a nod. "Ready for Sarah Lombardi?" he asks once they're alone.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Courtney grumbles. They collapse into the seats of Duncan's black getaway car and he drives them to a nearby tenement apartment building that was so close to the Day N' Night bar that they may as well have walked.

They get out of the car and head to the building. This time there was no sledgehammer or red letter, since they'd only be talking to a fellow dealer about using drugs responsibly, if you could call it that, instead of collecting a debt. Since they wouldn't need to use Courtney's people skills for the confrontation, Duncan goes ahead and leads them both up to the fourth floor.

He knocks on the very first door on the floor and they both wait in the hallway for an answer. Duncan looks at Courtney and raises an eyebrow. "Maybe she's not home?" Courtney wonders out-loud.

"Doubtful. Three days ago I called her and told her I'd be coming to see her today. She wouldn't purposefully leave," Duncan replies. Courtney bites her bottom lip, a nervous habit of hers. Duncan smirks at her, though, and immediately Courtney self-consciously stops biting her lip.

She sighs as another minute passes and Duncan knocks on the door once again. "Wait…," Duncan says hesitantly. "Does something smell like shit to you?"

Courtney takes a deep breath and nearly gags. Plugging her nose, she nods at Duncan and he knocks one more time, so hard that the knocking echoed down the hallway. Courtney could now make out the sound of a children's crying. With no answer from inside the room and with the door being locked, Duncan kicks the door in. Something was going on, and it didn't feel right.

In the room, a naked lightbulb hung from the ceiling, illuminating the scarce furniture around it. A battered couch was covered with a dirty patchwork quilt, and a soiled dresser with a broken mirror leaned against one of the aged plaster walls. The worn carpet was stained and had a puddle in the corner from a drip in the ceiling. Yellowed newspapers were stacked in another corner, and cobwebs created a mosaic on the ceiling. In the middle of the room was a bawling little boy, about two years old.

Courtney immediately kneels down in front of the boy and croons, "Shh, don't cry, what's the matter?" She takes the raven-haired, hazel-eyed toddler into her arms and rubs his back comfortingly as his tears stream into her hair and down her shoulder.

Duncan, meanwhile, quickly enters the room and begins on a lookout for Sarah Lombardi. The smell was noticeably stronger in the room and he could almost pinpoint the source. He opens a door on the left, the only other door in the apartment, and is hit by a blast of foul air.

On the yellowing, soiled mattress laid the dead body of Sarah Lombardi.

* * *

**(Author's Note: Have you guys seen the movie The Untouchables, about a group of prohibition men who try to shut down Al Capone's gangster empire? Well, I haven't. Haha. But I totally need to, right after I finish reading the book The Untouchables, which the movie was based off of. The movie always leaves out part of whatever book it was based off of, so I always read the book first. Anyway, just check out the movie or the book, I don't care. It's really awesome. And sorry I kinda jumped around a lot from scene to scene, but I'm really trying to paint the picture of what it was like to be a mobster before I get to the actual plot. So spare with me. It'll come up soon.)**


	4. No Disrespect

"Courtney, come take a look at this," Duncan croaks through the tightening of his throat. He wasn't freaking out about the sight of the dead body, since he was used to seeing those daily, but he _was _freaking out about the smell. Due to the rankness of the air, the body had probably been sitting there decomposing for at least two days. The body was swollen and a pale waxy color.

"What'd you find--? OH!" Courtney exclaims. Once she stepped into the room with the little boy on her hip, she sees the dead body and immediately dashes out of the room. Though the boy may have already seen his dead mom, she didn't want to scar him for life or anything. "Is she dead?" Courtney asks for validation.

There's a shuffling coming from the bedroom as Duncan leans his ear close to the woman's mouth. "Yep, there's no breathing," he confirms, backing out of the room. The smell of dead flesh was personally too much for him.

"So what are we going to do?" Courtney asks nervously.

"What do you mean? She's dead already! There's nothing we _can_ do. Now c'mon, we should get out of here before one of the neighbors noticed we were in here and think we killed her," Duncan says, walking towards the door to the tenement hallway.

"Duncan! Of course we can't help _her_, but what are we going to do with _him_?" she repeats, bouncing the little toddler on her hip who had finally ceased crying. Duncan looks at her blankly and Courtney turns to the little boy. "Hey, honey, what's your name?" she asks him in that high-pitched tone all adults use with little kids.

The two-year old rubs his wet eyes with his balled-up fists and burrows his small forehead in Courtney's shoulder. "Fwankie," he squeaks, pronouncing his r's like w's.

"Frankie," Courtney repeats, turning back to Duncan. "What are we going to do with Frankie? We just can't leave him here! He'll die or… or…"

"One of the neighbors will find him. Or we can drop him off at an orphanage. He's not our responsibility," Duncan suggests.

"Where do you think his mom got her drugs? From us! She overdosed, am I correct? That's how she died? So we basically killed Sarah Lombardi! We owe Frankie this," Courtney pleads. Frankie peeks his dark eyes up at Duncan.

"We didn't make her overdose. We didn't make her die. I don't owe anybody anything," Duncan scoffs, though his eyes were starting to soften at Frankie's look. Courtney stares at him. After a solid minute, Courtney blinks at him and Duncan snaps. "Fine!" he booms, "Take him with!"

Courtney smiles in victory and carries Frankie out of the tenement building and into Duncan's car. As she buckles up and holds Frankie in her lap, Courtney thinks about how lucky she is. Though she loved having sex with Duncan, she wouldn't know what to do if she got pregnant. As terrible as it sounds, she'd probably get an abortion if she was pregnant in order to keep things manageable. It would be impossible to be a pregnant gangster; things just don't work out that way. But with Frankie, she'd get all the enjoyment of a kid without being pregnant or having to give birth.

At least, for as long as Duncan wanted to keep Frankie around…

"Are you working tomorrow?" Duncan asks, right out of the blue.

"Um, no, why?"

"I'm taking you to one of Uncle Al's breweries during working hours. I figured I should show you how the creation process works, not just the sales and distribution part that Log Cabin handles. Would that work? I could get one of the guys to watch, um, Frankie while we're gone," Duncan explains, glancing over to the toddler in his fiancée's lap.

"Yeah, that'd be fine. You'll be there too, right?"

Duncan nods and continues, "I'll drive us there, and I'll kinda explain to you with the whole process. Some trucks will be coming in at three in the morning to pick up the next delivery, so we can help load the trucks then start on the next order. Think that'll give you a taste of how things work there?"

"Definitely. But why, may I ask, at three in the morning?" Courtney asks, since like Duncan explained, she barely knew anything about the goings on in the breweries where they got their liquor.

"That way people, namely the cops, won't be aware of all the trucks coming in and going out of the breweries. Then the barrels of liquor can go out and the sacks of corn sugar can come in without being noticed. And during the day, the alcohol will be fermenting, so it's really an elaborate process," Duncan explains while parking the car in the alley.

They walk into Log Cabin, which was completely silent because it was around two in the morning. "Where are we putting the little guy?" Duncan whispers, motioning to Frankie in the dark.

"Um… we don't have a crib, do we?"

"The bathtub will work. I'll get some blankets to kinda soften it up," Duncan offers, turning in the opposite direction to the closet. Courtney continues up the stairs, carrying Frankie into the bathroom. Suddenly she's hit with a feeling of dread.

They didn't even have a crib for Frankie, yet alone spare clothes. All the Log Cabin gangsters smoked, which probably wouldn't be good for Frankie's health, and not only that, but there were drugs and alcohol readily available for accidental injection. Also, there were massive staircases, swearing, corruptive PlayBoy magazines, drive-by shootings, and they didn't even have healthy food for a growing child! Courtney started hyperventilating in a panic. She couldn't raise Frankie in this kind of an environment, and probably not even at all.

Duncan came into the room with a large armful of blankets and quilts. He lays them down in the claw-footed bathtub and lays a pillow at the front. Then he scoots the bathtub away from the faucet on the wall so the bathtub won't accidentally start to fill if Frankie pulled the handle.

Courtney tucks Frankie in and pulls the shower curtain across the bathtub opening, sealing it off from the rest of the bathroom. "Listen--," both Duncan and Courtney start off at the same time. Duncan smirks and Courtney waves him off.

"Go ahead," she tells him, going back to their bedroom. Duncan follows her and shuts the bedroom door behind him. Courtney begins to undress out of her dress as Duncan starts talking.

"I've been thinking about Frankie, and I think it's a good thing we're adopting him… Uh, momentarily," he admits.

Courtney takes one of Duncan's old black skull T-shirts that he had embarrassingly admitted he used to wear as a teenager and slips it over her head as pajamas. Though the shirt was now old for him, it was still a big baggy on her. The neckline was too wide, and it looked more like a V-neck on her than anything. The short sleeves on him went down to her elbows, and the hem of the shirt stopped just below her butt.

"And what do you mean by that?" Courtney asks, taking a seat on their bed. Duncan leans against the dresser, arms crosses across his broad chest.

"Well, though Log Cabin may not be the _best_ home for Frankie, at least it's a home. Orphanages aren't always reliable, in the sense of finding the orphan a home. Some kids can stay there for years, and even if they're adopted, the families may not even end up wanting to keep them. Either that, or they're bounced from one foster home to another," Duncan says bitterly, just from conjuring up the memory, "I should know."

Courtney gasps out of realization of her stupidity and covers her mouth. "Oh, Duncan, I'm so sorry!" she exclaims, hopping off the bed. She cups Duncan's face in her hands and whispers, "I totally forgot. I bet you completely understand what Frankie's going through right now."

Duncan uncrosses his arms and gently puts his hands on Courtney's hips. "Princess, the last thing I want is sympathy. I'm fine. I just don't want the same for Frankie," Duncan elaborates.

A while ago, Duncan had admitted to not having much of a family. His mother, Al Capone's sister, abandoned him with his grandmother, Al Capone's mom. But soon his grandmother passed on, and with nobody else to take care of him, he was taken in at an orphanage by six years old. He grew up switching from foster home to foster home to eventually back to the orphanage, never having a definite home. Once he was eighteen, Duncan was kicked out of the orphanage and joined the gang.

Courtney nods and crawls under the covers. Duncan follows Courtney into the bed and puts his arm around her. Courtney curls up against his side, and he flicks off the lamp, making the room pitch-black. After a moment of silence, Duncan asks, "Oh, yeah. What were you going to say?"

"I, um… just really like having Frankie here," Courtney lies, glad Duncan couldn't see her face in the dark. She bites her lip nervously and eventually falls asleep.

_"I always tell the truth. _  
_Even when I lie."_  
**- Al Capone**

The next evening, Courtney wakes up alone. She runs her hand across the part of the mattress where Duncan had been sleeping to find it cold, so he must have woken up a while ago. She climbs out of bed and quickly throws on some clothes.

Duncan walks into the room right in the middle of Courtney curling her hair, since curly hair was extremely popular at the time. "Frankie is still sleeping like a rock," he reports, "And Damien's girlfriend is coming over to babysit him while we go to the brewery."

"Sure."

"I was also wondering… Could we make a stop at a bar real quick so I can pick up our payment?" he asks. "It's in a bad part of town, though, so you can just stay in the car if you want."

Courtney finishes the last curl and sprays it in place. She turns off the curling iron and smiles teasingly at Duncan. "Of course we can stop by. And am I really going to be discouraged from going into a bar just because it's in a bad part of town?" she chides.

"I guess not," Duncan murmurs, sliding his arm around her waist and leading them out the door. They walk into the dark alley lit by the full moon and climb into the car. "But we just have to be careful of some of the psychos down there."

"I'm sure we'll be fine," Courtney assures him. Soon they pull up to a rundown-looking warehouse that had neon pink lights flashing "Open." Duncan parks the car in the alley, which was already crowded by half a dozen other parked cars. They climb out of the car and head into the bar, whose door was hanging wide open, which was not a wise decision if there were any police around, though there weren't -- at the moment. Right as they walk into the bar, a beer bottle flies through the air and shatters against a wall on the other side of the room, spraying the dancers with broken glass. "Sure you don't want to wait in the car?" Duncan asks.

"I'm sure!" Courtney agrees yet again.

"Alright…," Duncan says warily. "Well, I'll be right through that door in the back. I'll be really quick, since all I have to do is pick up an envelope of cash. Just stay right here, since the owner doesn't like dealing with more than one person in the room at a time.."

"Okay, I'll see you soon," Courtney replies. Duncan weaves his way through the dancefloor disappears into the room in the back. Courtney waits next to the door, but she begins to get antsy as several rough-looking guys walk in. Deciding not to look lost, Courtney wanders away from the door a bit.

The strippers on the stage just above the dancefloor wound round and around their own silver poles, tossing articles of clothing into the dance crowd. Other scantily-clad girls dance on the dancefloor, practically giving random drunk guys vertical lap dances. Some drunk guys were beginning to eye Courtney up and down, so she decides to wait near the door where Duncan was so she could alert him if things got bad. By now, Courtney was wishing she had stayed in the car, though she couldn't go back to the car now because Duncan had the keys, and waiting in the dark alley would be even worse than waiting in the bar.

Courtney heads onto the dancefloor and starts making her way through the crowd to the door where Duncan had last went in. She was bumped by multiple people, and some stray hands and limbs accidentally whacked her butt while they were dancing. Courtney overlooked the ignorant people, but by the time she completely made it through the crowd and off the dancefloor, a drunk guy actually has the audacity to purposefully grab her ass. Apparently he thought she was one of the dancers hired by the bar.

But before Courtney could react by spinning around and smacking him so hard his eyes popped out of his head, she hears, _click, click_! Everybody within a ten foot radius of them freezes at the sound of a gun being cocked. Courtney turns around to see Duncan, and he had his gun held to the drunk's head. "You got a problem with your hands, man?" Duncan asks threateningly.

"Nah, Duncan," the pervert slurs, "Man, I didn't know that was your girl. I'm sorry, man. You know I wouldn't disrespect you like that."

Duncan nods grimly. "Not only did you disrespect me, but you disrespected my girl. I think you owe her an apology," Duncan continues.

The man turns to face Courtney with watery eyes, and he continues slurring, "I'm sorry, miss. I'm sorry. Please forgive me."

Duncan, gun still held to the man's temple, asks, "His life is in your hands, baby girl. Do you forgive him? If not, he's got to go. So what's it gonna be?"

Courtney didn't want another murder on their hands in addition to the murder of Frankie's mom, even if his mother's murder was an indirect murder. And instead of just letting him go easy, she looks the man up and down, eyeing him like he wasn't even worth the bullet it would take to kill him. "I forgive him, Duncan. Let's go," Courtney finally answers.

Duncan lowers his gun and slips it through his belt loop at the drunk dashes off across the bar. Duncan takes Courtney's hand in his and leads her onto the dancefloor. As they navigate through the dancers, suddenly a fight breaks out across the bar.

Gunshots ring out, and something whizzes over Courtney's head. She immediately ducks, and the people on the dancefloor start running around like crazy. Courtney's hand is yanked out of Duncan's as she's knocked over by some frantic people jostling her from side to side.

Somebody steps on her hand and soon another person trips over her ankle. A random knee of some fleeing person whacks her on her cheekbone. In all the commotion, Courtney crawls under a nearby table to keep from being trampled, and she curses herself for leaving her gun at home. Her eyes begin to water as she waits for a chance to escape to safety. Five minutes, at least, had passed, and still no sign of Duncan.

Suddenly, Courtney feels somebody grasping at her waist. "Come with me," Duncan whispers from behind her as he lifts her bridal-style out from under the table. Courtney stays silent as he carries her through the panicked crowd and out through the side door.

From the alley, they could hear more gunshots from inside the bar. People were now streaming out the doors and either hopping in their cars or running away down the sidewalk. Duncan holds Courtney one-handed as he opens the car door, then he sets her down in the passenger seat.

"Are you okay? Did anything happen to you?" Duncan asks her fretfully. He gently takes her chin and turns her head side to side to check for any bruises or cuts.

"I'm fine, Duncan."

"Really? Are you sure?" he asks, his eyes pleading. His thumb lightly brushes against a forming bruise on her cheek, where the person's knee had collided with her cheekbone. "What about this?"

"I'm perfectly fine. Really, Duncan. And that's only a bruise," Courtney excuses. She gives him a look that shows she was tired of him playing doctor.

"Okay, okay," Duncan sighs. "But remember, I would never let anyone hurt you. Because you're my princess, and you deserve the best," he continues sincerely.

Courtney gives him a small smile and nods. He leans down and gives her a lingering kiss before shutting the door and going around to the driver's seat. "So we're still going to the brewery, right?" Courtney asks when Duncan starts the car.

Duncan turns and gives her a look, which prompts her to continue, "Oh, come on! Nothing's going to happen at the brewery. I'll be perfectly safe. All our excitement for the night is over."

Duncan slightly shakes his head, but doubtfully agrees.

**

* * *

**

(Author's Note: Ah, Courtney. So naïve… If she only knew. So, any guesses on what will happen during the next chapter? Submit it in a review! Anybody who gets it right will get a shout-out in the next chapter, but only if you review before the next chapter is up… Since updating chapters are such a hassle. So review quick!)


	5. Racketeers

**(Author's Note: Wow, a lot of reviewers actually got their predictions right. Some of them had a bit of parts that weren't right, but their main guess was right. So congrats to nerdyskaterchick, duncanXcourtneyFan, and Alexex. The two reviewers who guessed it SO spot-on that I am kinda scared that they read my mind from over the internet is… Ashyroxsox and xXxRiivahxXx. Good job guessing this chapter!)**

* * *

Duncan pulls up to a gray warehouse on the other side of downtown Chicago. A large wooden sign over the metal garage door had the words "Thomson Paint Factory" in red letters. A ten-foot chain-link fence formed the border around the warehouse, and the metal gates were electronically controlled from inside.

He puts the car in neutral as he honks the horn three times and waits for the gate to open. A humming sound was made as the massive gates swung open, allowing Duncan to drive through. The gates swing closed behind them and Duncan parks next to the brick building.

Duncan and Courtney hop out of the car, and the metal garage door slowly was raised. They walk into the warehouse, and the garage door shuts behind them.

"Hey, Uncle Al," Duncan greets as Al Capone walks up to them. They each shake hands and pat each other on the back.

"Hi, Al Ca-- I mean, Uncle Al," Courtney corrects herself. Al Capone nods in satisfaction and gives her a small peck on each cheek.

"Now you're getting it," Al Capone comments. "So, Duncan's gonna show you around, huh?"

"Yes, sir, Uncle Al. We figured it would be good for me to learn the process of alcohol-making if I was going to be dealing it," Courtney answers. Al Capone nods.

"Sure thing. Have fun. I'll be in my office," Al says, pointing to a staircase leading to a small room near the ceiling that was supported by rafters. He tilts his pearl-gray felt fedora with a narrow black band, the signature trademark of Capone gangsters, at them and walks off.

Courtney turns and looks around the warehouse. There were massive floor-to-ceiling metal vats all around the warehouse in neat little rows. Wooden ladders were propped up against the vats so the brewers could climb up and add ingredients into the mix. Large crates were stacked up against a wall, and pipes from the vats led to the other wall, opposite from the crates. Barrels were stacked by this wall, underneath all the pipes.

"First of all," Duncan says, leading Courtney over to the stack of crates, "The main ingredient for alcohol is mash. Mash is usually made of corn sugar, but Uncle Al has found a new and more efficient way of making mash, and that's by using a mixture of grain and sugar instead of just grain and water, which is what mash is made of."

Courtney nods at the crates, which were labeled "grain" or "sugar" or "yeast" in red block letters. Then Duncan leads her to a wooden ladder that led up to a vat. He motioned for her to start climbing, so she obliges. Once she reaches the top, she feels Duncan climb up behind her on the step right below her. His arms were on either side of her, and he points into the golden foamy liquid.

"First we mix the grain and sugar together, then we begin to ferment it by using yeast. Uncle Al's alcohol is better than the rest, since he can afford flavoring for it, unlike some other brewers. So after it ferments, some hops are added to the mix for flavor. The eight steps to brewing is malting, mashing, lautering, boiling, fermenting, conditioning, filtering, then packaging," Duncan elaborates.

The ladder shudders as Duncan climbs down, and Courtney follows after him. "So… what about the pipes?" Courtney asks, motioning to all the pipes that led from each vat and practically formed a maze over their heads. All the pipes led to the far wall by the barrels.

"Well, after fermenting, we spin the wheel attached to the vat and the alcohol is sucked up into the pipes. Then the alcohol goes through the pipes, and we can put it into these barrels here," Duncan exclaims, patting an empty barrel. "From there, the alcohol is shipped to local bars, or all over the country."

"Wow," Courtney breathes, mulling it over in her head. She looked around the warehouse once more, watching all the brewers checking in on each and every vat. A few workers walked around with clipboards and timers, making sure not to ferment anything for too long. And a dozen or more security guards prowled the courtyard outside the brewery and were stationed in little guard posts high near the ceiling, only accessible by ladders.

From outside, three faint honks were heard. A security guard in a guard post by the windows works a control panel, opening the gate and then the garage door to let a large brown truck come rumbling in. The truck was like the many others Courtney had seen around town; they transport the alcohol all over.

But suddenly, Duncan grabs her arm roughly and drags her across the warehouse. She has to sprint to keep up with him. "Shiiiiit," Duncan hisses under his breath. He pulls her behind a vat in the corner and tugs her down into a crouching position.

"What? What's going on?" she asks. Duncan ignores her and takes his gun out of his belt loop. He loads several more bullets into the gun until it's full, and he flicks off the safety. Now there was a commotion going on, and guns were going off every which way. People were shouting and ducking for cover, but they were safe in the corner… for now.

"Duncan! What's happening?" Courtney shrieks, shaking his shoulder. Finally Duncan spins around and acknowledges her presence. He puts both his hands on her shoulders and pins her against the vat.

"Okay… okay. I'll tell you what's going on," Duncan begins. More bullets erupt from further in the warehouse and Courtney turned her head to see, though other vats were in the way. "Look at me!"

Courtney's head whips back to face Duncan and he continues, "Okay, the driver in that truck wasn't the usual driver. The only possible explanation is that he hot-wired the truck or hijacked it from the other driver. I wasn't taking any chances with you out there, and my guess was correct… The driver brought a bunch of other Racketeer gangsters with him as an easy attack on Uncle Al's brewery."

"The Racketeers? But I thought you killed Jared," Courtney contemplated. The Racketeers were Log Cabin's rival gang, and their gang was practically torn apart when Duncan killed their leader, Jared, in a shoot-out after Duncan and Courtney were kidnapped.

"I did. But his buddy Jude has been regaining the Racketeer's strength secretly for all this time as a chance to finally get revenge… Which is what they're doing, right now," Duncan explained further.

"But what do they want?"

Duncan bites his lip, something which he never does. A moment passes without him saying anything. Finally, he answers, "Me. They want to kill me as revenge for Jared's death."

Courtney's eyes immediately well up and she opens her mouth wide to protest. Duncan clamps his hand over Courtney's mouth as she shouts, "NO!" But her voice came out smothered and barely above a whisper due to Duncan's hand in the way.

"You have to be quiet," he warns her. She nods, and Duncan removes his hand. Duncan takes a deep breath and asks, "You trust me, right?"

Courtney's eyes overflow and a few tears accidentally stream down her cheeks. "Ye-Yes," she says, a bit wobbly.

"You sure?"

"Yes!" Courtney repeats in a more confident voice.

Duncan wipes her tears away with the palm of his hand and he cups her cheek. "You know I would never do anything to hurt you or let anyone hurt you if I could stop them, right?" he asks. Courtney just nodded, because if she spoke, she was sure she'd start bawling. It sounded like Duncan was planning on leaving her… Or that he knew he was going to be taken away.

So he continues, "Well, I want you to listen to me and do exactly what I say." Duncan peeks around the corner of the vat, then turns back to Courtney and starts speaking rapidly, "I want you to not fight. No matter what. Just sit here and take it. Trust me. The more you resist, the more they'll hurt you. Please. I don't want you to be killed too. If anything happened to you…"

Duncan is cut off as three Racketeers dash around the vat and try to tackle him. They manage to wrestle him to the ground, mainly because it was three against one, and all the while they were shouting back and forth to each other. Courtney could barely hear what they were saying due to the blood pounding in her ears.

She almost leapt to her feet to try to pull them off Duncan, but she made eye contact with him, his face pressed against the concrete floor. His eyes were pleading, begging her not to go against the Racketeers. Courtney's knees buckle and she sits against the vat.

The Racketeers then force Duncan to his feet, holding a gun to his head. Duncan doesn't resist, so as to not be killed right in front of Courtney. He knew that if that happened, Courtney would be scarred for life.

Two Racketeers drag Duncan out of the warehouse, and the third Racketeer stays behind. Courtney remembers Duncan's long-time-ago advice to her, _Princess, remember to never show an inch of frailty in you. Cover up your wounds, because as my girl, everyone's out to get you as a way to get to me. It's just the price you have to pay if you want to be with me. So never show weakness. _Duncan's words give Courtney the strength to glare up at the Racketeer, even though she was vulnerable without a weapon.

An evil smirk slowly crawls across the Racketeer's face. He raises the gun up in the air, yet Courtney still watches him with a blank face. The butt of the gun slams down hard on her temple, and she collapses hard on the floor. The next minute was spent watching the spots that swam in front of her eyes before she totally blacked out.


	6. Gang Queen

Courtney wakes up in her bed all alone. She runs her hand across where Duncan usually sleeps to find it cold. A major sense of deja-vu overcomes her, and she lays there confused. She was still in the clothes she wore from last night and there was a large bump on her head, so apparently Duncan's kidnapping wasn't a nightmare like she thought. Somebody must have carried her back to Log Cabin after the events at the brewery.

Suddenly Damien comes crashing into her room. "Good! You're awake!" he exclaims. "What are we going to do?"

"What? You're asking me?" Courtney asks, still confused.

"Um… yeah. Duncan said that if anything ever happened to him, you'd be left in charge of Log Cabin," Damien explains slowly. Courtney's jaw drops open as realization hits her. She remembers a long-ago conversation between her and Duncan, _Princess, you demand a Gangster Queen's respect, and they will give it to you. And what I mean is, never let any one of those bastards touch you. You're the top. _"So what do we do?"

Courtney stands up and straightens her black Log Cabin miniskirt and picks up a black tie from the bedside table. "Go get everybody together in the living room. Mob meeting," Courtney orders. Damien quickly nods and shuts the door behind him.

Courtney changes her shirt from yesterday into a pale pink off-the-shoulder sweater that complemented the tan tones in her skin. Then she loosely ties the regulation black Log Cabin tie around her neck, leaving the knot halfway down her chest for a sexy, relaxed, yet still in-charge look.

In the mirror, Courtney assesses her hair. It was still loosely curled from yesterday, so she leaves it as is. But she flips the part of her hair to the other side in order to hide the bump on her head. After quickly brushing her teeth, Courtney heads out to the living room.

Courtney takes a deep breath, pulls back her shoulders, and holds her head high with the confident air of a Gangster Queen. The conversation in the room immediately halts as she walks in, and Courtney stands in front of the large group of Log Cabin gangsters, including Damien's girlfriend and Frankie.

"First of all," Courtney announces, taking her time in scanning the crowd before her, "_What_ the hell is going on?"

A few gangsters look around nervously and Damien stands up. Courtney raises an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. "Well, Duncan made me swear not to tell anyone when this was at first happening, but… Jude has been training mobsters to join the Racketeers ever since Duncan killed Jared," Damien explains.

"You better start talking before Duncan's time runs out," Courtney threatens. A good leader is one who never lets their emotions show, so it's all the better to lead the group unbiased-ly.

"Okay, okay! What do you need to know?" Damien asks.

"Why didn't Duncan tell us?" Courtney immediately replies. Good leaders were also always on top of things, and she needed to know what was going on.

"He thought Jude would fail at training gangsters for the Racketeers. He didn't think their would be anybody who would want to stand up to the second-most influential gang in Chicago, after Al Capone's gang, of course. But I guess the monetary influence rose over the threat of death," Damien elaborates.

Courtney nods and lights up a cigarette, taking a big drag and blowing a semi-transparent cloud into the air. It was the best way for her to stay calm in situations like these. "Greed is a powerful thing," she agrees. "But what we need to know is where the Racketeer's hideout is located, so we can start planning an attack from there."

"But the Racketeers have been on the down-low for a long time now. How are we going to find them?" Damien protests.

"Did I ask you?" Courtney snaps. "Anything's possible. And we're going to _find out_ where they are," she insists. After another drag on her cigarette and scanning the room, she starts pointing out people.

"You, you, you, you, you, you, and you," Courtney says, pointing out a small group of people. "And… you, too." Then she points to the far corner of the room and instructs, "Go stand over there. You're group number one."

After dividing the Log Cabin gangsters up into separate groups, she paces the room and explains, "Now, for those overly-curious people, I've separated you all into groups in which you will all specialize in specific orders that I will be giving you."

Courtney stops pacing in front of group number one. "Group one, you'll be in charge of finding the Racketeer's hideout. Since this is one of the harder jobs, this is why you have more group members than the rest of the groups. I don't care what you're technique is to find the hideout, just find it. You can do anything to get any tips about the Racketeer's, and Duncan's, whereabouts."

"Now for group two," Courtney continues, "Your job will be after group one does their job. What you guys need to do is find the blueprints for whatever building the Racketeers are in. That way we'll be able to map out the place and plan our attack from their. Get the prints from the Chicago's city files, or just map it out on your own by somehow infiltrating their hideout, I don't really care. It's up to you to plan it out."

"From there," she rambles on, "group three will take over once group two is finished. Group three will mark locations where we will enter the building, and our positions once inside the building for the quickest way possible to recapture Duncan and surround the Racketeers to defeat them once again."

"Group four is in charge of collecting the needed weapons and getaway cars to complete our mission. And, finally, group five will be in charge of leading the whole attack. They'll memorize the plan and split up once we get to the building, leading all the rest of us to the different entry locations to get inside. So, any questions?" Courtney asks.

She looks around the room, and nobody speaks up. "Good! Then get to work. I expect a full report every twelve hours until we get Duncan back. I'll be checking up on you all every now and then, too, to be sure none of you are wasting time."

_"As far back as I can remember,_  
_I've always wanted to be a gangster."_  
**- Nicholas Pileggi**

There's a knock on the bedroom door, and Courtney shouts, "Come in!" By now it has been twelve hours since she gave orders to the five groups of Log Cabin gangsters, and only group one would be reporting to her now, since the rest of the groups were waiting for group one to finish their job.

Damien comes in, the unspoken leader of group one. "Damien, take a seat. Help yourself to a cigar," Courtney tells him, pointing to a desk humidor. "Make yourself comfortable. Now, please, tell me you guys found something worth reporting."

Damien reaches into the humidor on Courtney's desk, which kept cigars moist instead of drying out. He lights it and places the thick stick of tobacco into his mouth, taking a puff.

Damien purses his lips and reports, "We've noticed that a strange shipment of liquor has been being distributed around to speakeasies and bars. And the crates that held the liquor didn't have the stamp on the box that distinguished one alcohol brand from another, which was one sign. So we decided to tail the trucks that were dropping off the liquor.

"And what did you find?" Courtney asks interestedly, leaning forward and crossing her legs.

"Well," Damien continues, "We followed the trucks back to several warehouses around the city. So we stationed a little over half our crew in apartments and hotel rooms all around the city. We rented only rented rooms that just so happened to be stationed across from the empty warehouses we found suspicious, so we can keep an eye on them."

Damien rambles on, "Also, we managed to blow out the power in a few blocks that the warehouses were on. We sent in a few gangsters dressed as electricians to 'fix the fuses' and we tapped their phone wires. Then we connected the wires from the warehouses to the Log Cabin rooms across the streets, so whenever the people in the warehouse makes a call, the phone in our room will ring. So all we have to do from there is pick up the phone when it rings to listen in on their conversation and hopefully hear a helpful hint or two."

"Great!" Courtney exclaims, "Did you find anything out yet?"

"Not quite," Damien answers humbly, "Some of the warehouses happened to be legit factories or other distribution centers or the like, that were apparently just dropping off empty barrels for beer storage at the speakeasies. But we have managed to cut it down from several suspicious warehouses to three. So hopefully we'll have an answer to give you within the next twelve hours."

"Alright," Courtney sighs. "We'll find the Racketeers eventually. Good job, Damien. Report back next in twenty-four hours. But, of course, if you hear anything before then, be sure to report it."

"Of course, Courtney," Damien replies, backing out of the room with the cigar still in hand. Once the door has clicked shut, Courtney grabbed Duncan's shirt from the floor that he had worn just two days ago. She holds it to her nose and breathes in the musky scent of her lost fiancé.

* * *

_On those empty streets at dawn..._  
_I'm a special agent, but I still failed._  
_I only move by the commands and I am that type of soldier,_  
_Don't touch me._  
_Boom! Throwaway your life, along with the sound._  
_Thumbs up for finishing the mission,_  
_Love is a luxury for people like us._  
_Coldblooded and zero emotions, that's the rule._

_That was a strong drink and now the memories are deleted._  
_Today's allies becomes tomorrow's foes._  
_Right under my nose there's trust and betrayal._  
_Then there's the cold question,_  
_Don't ask me, test me, just blast it!_  
_Why can't I have a normal life?_  
_Why can't I have you, it's too late for me,_  
_Because I lost the control and that's my fate._  
_And I can't guarantee it 24/7._

_Gunshot echoes but at the same time,_  
_Papers of life goes swoosh like the wind._  
_I snatch everything away like a poker game._  
_Then I want to regain my power back with my pokerface._  
_Son, yo! If you can't avoid it then enjoy it!_  
_Hide your beating heart and breath,_  
_It's not all or nothing, so go ahead and call on it._

_Like a lonely hyena searching for a prey,_  
_If you are expecting for adequate then you better shut up and go to hell._  
_With that half baked trap, catch me if you can._  
_I will mess around with your head on the stand._  
_We so fly, goodbye my fellas,_  
_Burn those memories in the fire._  
_Get careless, then there will be a gun aimed at you._

_Shimmy, shimmy yo!_  
_One, two steps, action!_  
_Mission complete,_  
_No doubt._


	7. Drive By

"Courtney!" Damien exclaims, bursting into her room three hours later, "We found out which warehouse was holding Duncan captive."

"Well, don't just stand there!" Courtney exclaims, quickly standing up from her desk where she was working. "Which one is it? How'd you find out?"

"It's the warehouse on the corner of Cicero Avenue and 31st Street. You know those wire taps we set up? One of the guys was complaining about how unruly Duncan was being, so we knew he was being held there," he explains.

Damien's report almost brought tears to Courtney's eyes. She knew Duncan would always put up a fight if he wasn't getting his way. A few seconds pass before Courtney orders, "Take me to the warehouse."

"…What?" Damien asks doubtfully.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid!" Courtney snaps. "Just take me to the fucking warehouse. I need to see it."

"Um, alright then, I'll go get the car started so-"

"No. _I'll_ get the car started while _you _tell group two to get started on finding the blueprints. Also tell group three to keep on their toes, because I trust group two will be able to get their job done fairly easy so then group three can begin soon. Got it?" Courtney commands.

"Yes'm!" Damien yelps with a miniscule salute before he scrambles from the room. Courtney slips on a gray jacket then descends the staircase out the Log Cabin warehouse to the alley where their cars are parked.

Courtney takes the master keyring from her pocket, which had all the keys to all the locks on all the doors in Log Cabin's warehouse along with all the keys to the locks on every single Log Cabin gangster's car. She climbs into the passenger seat of Damien's remodeled black Model T and sticks the key into the ignition, but doesn't start it yet. Most of the Log Cabin gangsters' cars were just usual black Model T cars, but with fixed-up engines, so they wouldn't stick out much on the streets.

Finally Damien runs out of Log Cabin and hops into the driver's seat. He twists the keys in the ignition, starts the car, and pulls out of the alleyway.

* * *

**(Author's Note: Sorry, just a mini-chapter this time. Pretty wimpy, I know. Forgive me. But I just had to announce I'm starting another story called Kissing in Combat about Duncan as a US soldier during World War II. He meets Courtney, an orphaned Jewish girl, and he saves her life. Soon enough, she saves his life too and their relationship just thrives from there as she works as a nurse at his army camp. READ IT! Lol. I'll be writing both stories at the same time, hopefully, so I can continue on with this one too. I have several chapters already written for Kissing in Combat, so I definitely have time for this one after ignoring it for so long. Don't hate me! I've been reading other stories, vacationing, overcoming writer's block, doing summer school, etc etc, so I haven't really had time. Anyway, check out Kissing in Combat!)**


	8. Pineapple

**(Author's Note: I'm repeating a little bit of the last mini-chapter just to remind you guys of what's going on. Terribly sorry for not updating…)**

* * *

"Courtney!" Damien exclaims, bursting into her room three hours later, "We found out which warehouse was holding Duncan captive."

"Well, don't just stand there!" Courtney exclaims, quickly standing up from her desk where she was working. "Which one is it? How'd you find out?"

"It's the warehouse on the corner of Cicero Avenue and 31st Street. You know those wire taps we set up? One of the guys was complaining about how unruly Duncan was being, so we knew he was being held there," he explains.

Damien's report almost brought tears to Courtney's eyes. She knew Duncan would always put up a fight if he wasn't getting his way. A few seconds pass before Courtney orders, "Take me to the warehouse."

"…What?" Damien asks doubtfully.

"I'm not going to do anything stupid!" Courtney snaps. "Just take me to the fucking warehouse. I need to see it."

"Um, alright then, I'll go get the car started so-"

"No. _I'll_ get the car started while _you _tell group two to get started on finding the blueprints. Also tell group three to keep on their toes, because I trust group two will be able to get their job done fairly easy so then group three can begin soon. Got it?" Courtney commands.

"Yes'm!" Damien yelps with a miniscule salute before he scrambles from the room. Courtney slips on a gray jacket then descends the staircase out the Log Cabin warehouse to the alley where their cars are parked.

Courtney takes the master keyring from her pocket, which had all the keys to all the locks on all the doors in Log Cabin's warehouse along with all the keys to the locks on every single Log Cabin gangster's car. She climbs into the passenger seat of Damien's remodeled black Model T and sticks the key into the ignition, but doesn't start it yet. Most of the Log Cabin gangsters' cars were just usual black Model T cars, but with fixed-up engines, so they wouldn't stick out much on the streets.

Finally Damien runs out of Log Cabin and hops into the driver's seat. He twists the keys in the ignition, starts the car, and pulls out of the alleyway. "Cicero Avenue and 31st Street…," Courtney muses aloud, looking out the car window at the sidewalk cracks whizzing by, "There's a lot of buildings around that area of town." "Easy to hide a captive," Damien comments.

"Yes, but also easy to hide a whole mob surrounding the warehouse for a surprise attack," Courtney replies. A few seconds pass and she continues, "Sorry. Just saying."

Damien nods and turns the car onto 31st Street; Cicero Avenue would be coming up on the right, as would the warehouse Duncan was being held captive in. "Right there," Damien says as the gray building looms ahead of them.

Courtney lowers her car window, since there was no air conditioning, but also to get a clearer view of the warehouse. She looked at it out of the corner of her eyes so as to not make it too obvious in case a guard caught sight of her in the car. The building was completely made of gray concrete, the only doors being two heavy metal garage doors on the north and east sides of the building.

The entire top floor of the four-story warehouse was made of dark tinted glass. Courtney couldn't see in, but she could definitely see shadowy figures watching the street below. Rusted fire escapes snaked up the sides of the building to the top floor. A light blue sign above the east-side garage door called the warehouse "Pauli's Carpet and Tile Factory." But the barbed wire fence around the property clearly proved otherwise.

Not that the police did a fucking thing about it.

The mob had too much power.

Before she knew it, Damien was past the warehouse. As they drove on, Courtney couldn't help but wonder what floor Duncan was being held on. The first? No, too vulnerable to attack. The second would also be too vulnerable. The third floor was a possibility. Definitely not the fourth floor, since it was all glass and susceptible to attack from the roof. But what if there were below-ground levels too?

"Hey!" Damien snaps at her. Courtney stays silent, waiting for him to continue. Which he does. "That car behind us has been following us for five blocks so far."

Courtney keeps calm and looks in the rear-view mirror. There was a man in the driver's seat and another guy in the passenger's seat. They were both dressed in neat suits, though nothing seemed too out of the ordinary about them. "Turn here," she commands, and Damien obediently makes a swift right turn onto a narrow, rarely-used road.

Courtney looked into the rear-view mirror and, sure enough, the car behind them followed. "Now here," she orders. After a few more turns, they'd gotten themselves onto a quiet backstreet shadowed by towering tenement buildings. But the car was still behind them.

Before they knew what was going on, the car had accelerated quickly and pulled up right next to Damien's car. He had no time to speed off ahead of them, or for Courtney to roll up her car window before the driver tossed a heavy item through the passenger-side window.

_"Say hello to my little friend."_  
**- Al Capone**

The metal object flew past Courtney and bounced against the dashboard before rolling to the car floor. Terror pulsed through Courtney as she recognized the pineapple. "Holy shit!" Damien exclaims, seeing the pineapple out of the corner of his eye.

The car that was next to them was now way ahead of them. Damien floored it, quickly catching up to them. Adrenaline pulsing, Courtney snatched up the pineapple and flung it out the window, right into the window of the car next to them. Damien kept speeding ahead, and barely a second or two later, and explosion sounded from behind them.

In the rear-view mirror, Courtney saw the gangster's car light up in flames and crash, out of control, into a streetlight. She squeezes her shaking hands together. That was her first time a pineapple had been thrown at _her_, since she's usually _she _was the one throwing the pineapples. Pineapples were grenades with a square pattern, resembling the skin of an actual pineapple, that were often thrown into the window of a gangster car next to yours as a quick kill.

Apparently those Racketeers, or at least they were _probably _Racketeers, didn't know quite how to use a pineapple. Courtney knew that you were supposed to pull the pin on the grenade and wait a few seconds before throwing it into the other car window. That way, the pineapple would explode in just two or so seconds later, barely giving you time to escape.

But clearly the Racketeers had no idea what they were doing with the pineapple, as Courtney had stated before. She had time for Damien to catch up to the Racketeers, for her to pick up the pineapple, and to throw it back. They'd even had a little escape time. Big mistake for the Racketeers, who were now probably burnt to a crisp by that streetlight.

"Let's not drive by the warehouse again," Damien suggested, breathless from his previous panic attack with the pineapple.

"Agreed."

By the time Damien drove back to the Log Cabin hideout, storm clouds had started to gather overhead. Courtney half-jogged into the building to avoid getting caught in the rain, even though it was only a short walk from the parking alley to the front of the building. Plus she was excited to see whether group two had found the blueprints to the warehouse yet or not.

Sure enough, when she walked into the living room upstairs, the group leader of group two rushed up to her. "We got the blueprints of the warehouse," he announces.

"Great, where from?"

"City Utilities," he replies, "One of our men were able to pose as a worker there since one of his relatives works there or something like that. He simply borrowed the uniform, went it, and got it."

"Well that's nice of him. He could very much be fired if City Utilities somehow traces the stolen blueprints down to him," Courtney says, following the gangster down the hallway to the room group three was holding post.

"Eh, I figured some of my salary could go to his family once we get Duncan back." Courtney nods and he opens the door, motioning her inside. She walks in, and the door shuts behind her. Apparently he wouldn't be joining her.

In the room, four large tables had been pushed together in a long rectangular formation so the blueprints could be placed as they would be if they were the actual building. The fourth-floor prints were on top, followed by the third underneath that, then the second, first, and a basement level. Group three were huddled around the blueprints, studying them.

Courtney walked over to the table and caught the last half of group three's leader's sentence, "So an attack coming from the ground floor would also help keep the Racketeers from escaping with Duncan. Oh, hello, Courtney."

She nods at the leader and asks, "Got any solid plans yet?"

"Not quite, we're just brainstorming for the moment. But we're thinking of the possibility of attacking from the ground floor to keep them trapped in the building," he answers.

"Well, Damien and I just drove by the warehouse to check it out and apparently the entire top floor has glass walls," Courtney says, and a Log Cabin gangster jots down a note on the fourth-floor blueprints. "So they would be able to see us coming."

"Not unless we get them first," states an anonymous voice from the group three crowd.

Courtney looked away from the group leader to pick out the gangster who just spoke, but couldn't pick him out. "Yes… So it might be a good idea to do it under the cover of darkness. That way we have the element of surprise on our side, plus a way of hiding Duncan as we get the hell out of there," Courtney comments.

"Any way to get to the roof from ground level?" the leader asks.

"There are fire escapes on every wall, which should work just perfect. But what if there are lights around the property? Even under the cover of darkness approaching the property, once we approach the actual building, the guards will see us," Courtney replies.

"We'll just have to figure a way to turn out the lights."

"Shooting them from a distance could work," a voice puts in.

"Good," the group leader continues, "So half of us can head up the fire escapes to take out the guards, while the other half wait a few minutes before going in from the ground level to keep the majority of Racketeers from escaping."

A few more ideas were traded back and forth until the general plan was set out. There were a few more rough details to be discussed, but that could happen that night or even the next day. Then group four would have to be alerted to start getting the right weapons together for the attack. It was a possibility they would even hire a few minor gangsters off the streets to aid in the attack, for a certain sum of payment. The attack would happen in approximately two days, and the dumbass Racketeers would have no idea what just hit them.


End file.
